


Is Something Burning?

by Control_Room, Random_ag



Series: Tortured Tales [15]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Crushes, Cute, Embarrassment, F/M, Fire, Motorcycles, fluster, good ending, metaphorical burning (of embarrassment), nongraphic car/vehicle accident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:49:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27679006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag
Summary: Kim's natural environment might be flames.
Relationships: (first is focus of story; second two are secondary), Joey Drew/Henry Stein, Kim Grosso/Niamh O'Flannel, Thomas Connor/Wally Franks/Sammy Lawrence
Series: Tortured Tales [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023520
Kudos: 1





	Is Something Burning?

Kim had not a single idea how to make him stop before he either slammed a stool in his face or combusted into fiery flames.

Shawn slowly smiled even wider, cheeks pinkening with the effort not to laugh as he exploited his friend's flexibility to lay further and further on his back.

“Someone is…” he began in a sing-song tone, softly at first, then gaining volume, “Flustered!”

“Shut up.”

“Someone has a crush on a strong lady!”

“Everyone does.”

“Someone has a crush on a _specific_ strong lady!”

“Point still stands: everyone does.”

“Hm, not me,” Shawn triumphantly remarked. “And as far as I know, you’re the only one with a crush on the one and only Niamh O’Flannel!”

Apparently having learned from her son the art of materializing everywhere one's name is spoken, the woman appeared, making Kim shriek and jump up onto his chair, darkening and heating with what she may have heard, as his friend was catapulted into the floor by his sudden movement.

“Wot’s this about a crush? We gonna have a fight or somethin’?” 

Kim retreated into his ribcage with both his legs, arms and possibly also his head, like a very weirdly shaped shell-less turtle, and felt flames burst from all around him.

***

It was almost unfair to the rest of the world, Kim thought to himself, that Joey Drew Studios had the very strange peculiarity of acting as an irresistible center of gravitation which accumulated a large conglomerate of remarkably good looking people. _Extremely_ good looking people, as far as the eyes of a one disaster bisexual could see, and unfortunately (or not, depending on your point of view or the day) he could see very well.

Currently the object of his discreet watching (read: staring from a tiny little hidden corner, nearly slack jawed if he had one ounce less self restraint) were a trio of lovebirds by the names of Sammy Lawrence, Wally Franks, and Thomas connor, the last of which had just placed two kisses on the cheeks of each of his partners (two kisses each, Kim could count, blushing and warming) before departing against his wish for he had been called to duty by a leaky pipe by the cracking voice of a panicking Joey, greeting someone as he left.

Those three men were nothing like one another, but that did not deter any of them from possessing a rare and wondrous beauty unique to each.

Just looking at them Kim felt his hands tremble, aching to be held - although he would have needed three to fully satisfy this quiet fancy of his, he murmured to himself, alternating between the two remaining boyfriends and his two palms; now, two would surely be enough.

“WOT YE STARIN’ AT, LAD?” Kim leaped two feet into the air, spun around, tried to claw himself at the wall and fell flat on his ass with the not-shouting-but-definitely-too-loud words of the Irishwoman that had somehow silently stomped her way to stand next to him. He had no idea how long she had been there, and yet he combusted into licks of blazing kerosene in any case, his thoughts and mind going completely haywire and melting.

***

In direct correlation to the previous anecdote, Niamh looked at him quizzically, and Wally and Sammy exchanged a glance, both slightly surprised but also amused. 

“Um, I, uh,” Kim said. Niamh, eyes squinting slightly, moved to stand where he was before exploding into flustered embarrassment, and looked where he had been looking. She remarked; “IT’S JUST FRANKS AN’ LAWRENCE, WOT’S SO INTERESTIN’?”

“Well, um,” Kim tried to decide if being honest or lying would help him any, though from the expressions of musician and janitor, he knew that there would hardly be any change in the outcome. “Well, they’re, they're…” his voice became tiny and weak as his face’s furnace began to stoke coal, “handsome….”

“Hey, an’ you’re a cutie too!” Wally shot back, his squishy cheeks causing his eyes to turn to shiny crescent moons with his massive grin. “Ain’t that right Sammy? That Kim fellow’s mighty sweet!”

“Yes he is,” Sammy nodded slightly, his own smile small and restrained. “Very nice visage and overall appearance, would certainly ask out.”

Kim sank to the floor, melting underneath a table, his skin the color of a ma-chicken that went from rare to far too well done in the matter of moments, shaking as if electrocuted.

“THEY'RE RIGHT, YER PRETTY GORGEOUS.” Niamh added candidly.

Kim wheezed.

“YE GOOD?”

“Just peachy.”

“YE SOUND LIKE YER SIZZLIN’.”

“Everything's fine, just dying via spontaneous combustion.”

“YE WANT ME T’ GET THE EXTINGUISHER?”

“... Yes, actually.”

“SPOT ON.”

***

It was so hot. Everything. Everything was so terribly hot. 

Something was on his arm. It was heavy. It was still hot. So hot. Burning hot.

It was heavy and light all at once, and it had to come off because if he did not take it off, he would burn. 

So he bent his arm one way. Nothing. He bent it another way. Nothing. He got his leg up a little and tried to kick the thing off. The helmet was suffocating him. His arm came out.

His arm came out and pushed the helmet up, barely managing to get over his mouth. Clean air helped, though it was hot and ashy. His head still rang. It was still hot. Were those sirens? He was burning. Today of all days.

He bent and crouched and slid around the obstacles in his way. He climbed out. His shirt was burning. He rolled on the ground until the fire died.

Somebody came closer. Asked him something. There was too much noise to hear well. He took off his helmet: “What?” he asked, confused. They looked at him in sudden disbelief.

“What?” he asked again.

“Your bones.” they repeated partly. Something stunned them.

“They're fine.” he answered. Where was his motorcycle? He saw it against the corpse of a car. Completely smashed to smithereens.

God damnit.

***

“Kid, come here,” Lacie patted his shoulder. Kim looked up from the toys he was stitching, the older person smiling at him. “We’ve got ya something outside. Come along now.”

“What, where are we going?” he asked, hopping up and following hir up the stairs. She answered, “Outside.” 

“Outside, outside where?”

“Oh, you'll see.”

He stared curiously as he followed her with his eyes and she walked down the hall to the back door. 

She turned back to call him again. 

“Come on Kim, we don’t have all day.”

He started moving again, quickly getting to her side before she could proceed. They stepped out and Kim could not help but smile at the colorful roses all planted neatly in their garden, the tomatoes he had contributed with growing nicely under their communal care.

They did not stop by the garden, floral or vegetable, but walked on a bit further to go around the building, around the chicken coop on the side of the building, the birds cocking their heads to watch the two go past, one waddling up for a head pat which, upon noticing the determination to get it in its little eyes, it did manage to steal from Kim's hand. 

Lacie chuckled and plucked at his sleeve again, being that he found himself covered in chickens, patting each one best he could.

“Git off chickies, Kim and I got shit to do,” she shooed them away. The toy maker finally free from their avian grasp, she gently dragged him to a spot where Bertrum was patiently waiting.

There was a canvas over something, and once he saw Kim and Lacie approaching, he made a delicate pyramid out of the fabric with two fingers, and then whisked it off. Lacie put in Kim’s hand the keys, and thank goodness she held them as well until he finally grasped them, because the reveal had stunned him to a complete halt of any and all bodily functions.

He was not a biker, or a motorcycle buff, but he didn't have to be extremely motor savvy to know that before him was standing a bike unlike any he had seen before, and most likely unlike any he could have seen after. Not only was it clearly masterfully crafted by hand, but it was designed with him in mind, a more comfortable seat and slimmer controls, the footrests at what, from where Kim gawked at it, appeared to be the perfect angle for his legs. It was embossed, or emblazoned, with a shiny pattern that he slowly realized was meant to replicate a waterfall, the water changing color across the bike to go from teal to a dark green, the swirls and waves carefully detailed and shaded.

He looked at Bertrum, then back at the bike. He looked at Bertrum again.

“It's not for me.” he stated. 

“Oh, is it not?” Betrum asked with bemusement twitching his lips. “Well then, who’s holding the keys?”

He held his hand up, staring at the keys that _had his name engraved in calligraphy_. Immediately, he tried to give the back to Lacie. She leaned as far back as she could so he could not reach hir, shaking hir head and smiling: “Those are yours, kid.”

“No, no no no no,” he tried to insist, free hand rising so he could bite at his nails, “I can't- I can't-!”

“Sure you can!” Lacie steered him towards the magnificent motorbike. “Go on, give it a spin!”

When he kept shaking his head, she frowned, pleading with hir eyes. He, unable to disappoint, rose upon it. There he sat like a wary cat, still in disbelief, balancing himself on the bottom of his backbone, the smallest tint of euphoria finally glimmering in the pulsing golden specks of his eyes.

“Go ahead, turn it on!” Bertrum encouraged him. “It’s all yours.”

“Later.” Kim promised, jittery, “Later, I will- oh my goodness, thank you, thank you, thank you. You didn't- you didn't have to, really, thank you-”

“Don’t mention it,” Lacie shrugged, smiling. Bertrum nodded, adding with a slight grin, “You are very, very welcome, though.”

“Gosh, I… I don’t know what to say--”

“Do you like the embossing pattern?” he asked the toy maker, “Our dear Joey was the one who did it. What do you think, he did good, yes? I believe so, but that man can worry more than a cheetah.”

Based on Kim's face, Johan had done a gorgeous job.

“If you'd like to thank him, I'm sure he would greatly appreciate that. He should be in his office right now, if my memory serves me right.”

“I will! I will, immediately - thank you, thank you so much…”

He flew back in the building, passing by the chickens hungry for more head pats like lightning, making sure to get to Joey’s office as fast as he could. He tried to adjust himself as he approached the door, not wanting to look like the embodiment of a small hurricane. He stood by the closed entrance to his boss’s office for about a minute and a half; he then turned around with a flushed face and searched for Niamh. When he did find her, he gently held her in place by the shoulders to have her undivided attention focused on his growingly embarrassed face.

The first thing he told her was: “Take this with a pinch of salt.”

A minute later she slammed the door of Joey's office wide open and bluntly asked: “Ye guys havin’ sex?”

Johan and Ray, cuddled with Johan in Ray’s arms, the doctor seated behind him and both looking up from storyboards, stared for a moment as Kim's knees buckled and he quietly smashed his head against the doorframe behind the manager.

Joey looked as though he was just asked if he was an entire species of dinosaur, and Henry snorted incredulously and started laughing. 

“Do we look like it?” he asked, and Johan covered his face.

“I dunno, I’ve never had it.”

From where they were looking they could see Kim curled on the floor. Had they not known him, they would have said he was either laughing hysterically or burning in endless shame.

***

Kim mumbled an apology as he bumped into someone. 

“Wot’re ye sorry fer?” Niamh asked him. His head shot up and he shook it, unsure of what to say. 

“Are y’ok?”

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “I’ve had a long… a long week.”

“Is that all?”

“I guess it is.”

“Mhm.” 

“Do you… um…” Kim, having had enough embarrassment to last a lifetime, tried to decide whether or not he could handle a little more. 

“Do I...?”

“Do you…” he sighed. “Can you hold me? For a second?”

She opened her arms without a second thought, and he gently placed himself in her hold. She was very soft, like an arctic seal.

“Thank you.” he mumbled.

“No problem.”

He stayed in her arms for a while longer, feeling nothing but the pleasant warmth of her body. Inhaling and exhaling, he waited for the embarrassment to catch up to him. It never did. A sensation of curiosity took him, wondering what he would do that _would_ initiate the fiery consumption of his mental faculties. 

“Could you give me a kiss, please?”

Oh. Oh so THAT was it.

So he thought at least.

The heat in his face waxed when she laughed, but waned when she took said face into her hands. 

“I could if you’d like!” she replied.

He looked at her a little flabbergasted.

“I… I would.”

And she did. On his nose. She kissed him on the nose. Without fanfare or hesitation.

Kim was surprised, and his cheeks colored dark; but he did not burn.

“You just… did that.” he noted.

“Yes.” Niamh simply smiled.

Completely unbothered.

Was it possible that there could be more than that? Something even more mortifying?

“Would you like to go on, uh go out with me? Maybe one time?”

Her eyes stared glassily into his own for a second. He could imagine her brain making dial-up noises.

“Go out where?”

This time, he laughed. 

“Out on a date, I mean.”

“Oh! I see. Hm.” She looked up, trying to remember if her schedule was free, and then shrugged. “Sure I’d like to, Kim. I don’t really know where we’d go, but if you have a place you particularly like, we could go there!”

“I’d like that,” Kim smiled warmly, feeling the nice heat flake over his face. It was pleasant and sweet. He remembered he was still hugging her, but found he did not mind. It was warm and cozy. “There is this one place I saw that I think has good Korean cuisine… I’m not sure if that’s something I like, but I think it would be fun to try.” 

“I think that’s a swell idea,” Niamh agreed. “So I’ll pick you up after work--”

“It is after work,” he giggled. She blinked and registered that fact, and then promptly picked him up.


End file.
